For A Thousand Years
by TheAmethystRiddle
Summary: Five years in prison had felt like an age without the people he'd come to depend on. Now that he was out, could he reconcile with the one who was most important of all? Jisbon.
1. Chapter 1

**This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but instead of ending at 1000 words it dragged itself out to 7000. That felt a bit long to just dump on you all at once and it was already split up into easy little sections, so I figured I would make chapters out of it. Fortunately I already have the whole thing written so I'll update every day. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Parole. For good behavior. Not like him, he knew, but there was only so much he could do in prison before he got bored - and received more than his share of death threats. He'd already laid the groundwork, so it didn't take too much sucking up to get some recommendations from the guards. He was properly reticent at the hearing and the judge was a new one, one Jane hadn't had a chance to ostracize yet. Everything went well.

Five years had passed since he'd worn one of his old suits, but it slipped on smooth as snakeskin, as if it had never been off. And it hadn't, really. The suit was just the physical aspect of the showman, and the showman had never gone away.

His Citroen was in the impound lot downtown. It still ran, to his delight, and he spent almost an hour driving around the city just to feel the old rumble of it underneath him. Then he checked into a motel, ordered a pizza, and called his PO to let him know where he was. Best to play by the book in these early days.

It was a solid forty-five minutes before there was any knock at his door, and he made sure to voice his displeasure as he opened it.

"If that's thirty minutes, I'm Lady Gaga- you better not be charging me for this." But it wasn't the delivery boy standing in front of him.

"Yeah, we don't do that guarantee." If the familiar smirk and drawl weren't enough to clue him in, there was the woman in all her sarcastic glory. Special Agent in Charge Teresa Lisbon, head of the Serious Crimes Unit and current Acting Director of the California Bureau of Investigation. The number of capital letters in that thought left him breathless.

"Well? You going to let me in? It's damned cold out here." He let her push past him into the room, whose second-rate furnishings suddenly embarrassed him. She sat down at the faded plastic table, settling back in the chair without bothering to take her coat off. He shut the door, standing in front of it without a word. She watched him in equal silence, both of them gauging the field as best they could. Finally, his voice cracking, he spoke.

"Five years." Lisbon flinched. "Five _fucking_ years. Not a word."

"Well, I can't be seen associating with a known criminal. Not good for PR, you know." She laughed weakly.

"Humor." He threw his hands out, pacing in front of her. "That's the best you can do."

She sighed, her brows drawn. "Jane…" He could see the pain on her face and he could see in himself that he didn't care.

"You need to leave." She looked as though she was going to cry and something in him cracked, some strange thing in his stomach snapped in two. "Just- come back tomorrow. Tomorrow." He turned away from her and covered his face with a hand. Behind him he heard her get up and slip out the door. As it clicked shut a sob ripped through him, his lips curling back in a choked-down yelp of pain and rage. Five years of nothing, no contact. Five years of waiting, waiting for anyone, any member of his team, to come see him. No one came, and he knew that only one person could give that order and be obeyed.

But why?


	2. Chapter 2

_Year one. He spent most of the year in hospital, nine long months of doctors and sickening pastel walls and intensive physical therapy. He hadn't gotten through his revenge unscathed, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was worth the slight tremor in his left hand. The scar was puckered and pink when he had the stomach to look at it, a reminder of the almost incapacitating pain of his own ceramic blade embedded deep in his shoulder. Red John had been much smaller than he expected, and he had underestimated the man's strength. He remembered retching as he watched Red John bleed out, gutted from navel to sternum, Lisbon in the doorway turning away as her face went white, Rigsby holding Van Pelt as she relieved the contents of her stomach, Cho stone-faced even as he surveyed the carnage. His injury saved him the indignity of handcuffs as he was led out of the house, limping on a twisted ankle to the back of an ambulance. Then EMTs forced him onto a stretcher and a police escort that was not Lisbon sat by his side as he fought for consciousness until he felt an IV slide under his skin and he knew he could drift off into blessed sleep. The jury didn't buy self-defense, and he didn't blame them. He'd been in a courtroom for killing Red John once before, and that was sure to tarnish his record. Still, the grim set of his lips as he waded through the pain in his shoulder was enough to get his charges reduced to manslaughter and his sentence set at twenty years. He didn't have any part of it, but he expected there were more than a few words put in for him at the higher levels of the judicial system. Whatever did it, he ended up at a low-security prison and generally in the good graces of the California penal system. He was even on good terms with the inmates, most of whom were thoroughly impressed by the violence he'd done. All in all, enough to be considered a victory. So why didn't he feel victorious?_


	3. Chapter 3

**I had a decent day, so here's two chapters for you cool cats. Also stop complaining.**

* * *

He didn't sleep. It had been a good couple years since he'd spent a sleepless night, and he was surprised by how unpleasant it was. He showered early in the morning and left the room, driving out to a diner on the edge of the city where he enjoyed a quiet cup of tea and a plate full of eggs. He didn't have the gas to wander as far as the day before, so after his meal he simply returned to the motel.

As he got out of his car and headed for the stairs up to his room, he saw Lisbon heading away from him, her head bowed low. For a split second he thought about letting her walk away, but by then he had already raised a hand and called her name, waving as she turned. They arrived at his door at the same time, and he unlocked the place and waved her in ahead of him. This time she shrugged off her jacket and slung it over the back of her chair before she sat. He sat down across from her, folding his hands in his lap and watching her. Today, it was she who spoke first.

"I'm sorry." He refused to meet her eye. "I wanted- I wanted you to learn a lesson."

"Oh, I did that alright," he muttered under his breath. She grimaced.

"Jane, you broke the law. Big time. And not only that, you betrayed me and you betrayed the team. Last time you were in jail you treated it like a vacation. I wasn't going to let that happen again."

He was silent. She was speaking sense, and he knew that. But that didn't make him any less angry. If anything, it annoyed him even more that she was in the right.

"Jane, this was- it was-" as she took a steadying breath he knew what she was going to say, and he knew how hollow it would sound, but he knew also that every word of it was achingly true. "This was as hard on us as it was on you."

He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets to hide their shaking.

"I know," he whispered.

"Jane, let us back into your life. Please." She reached across the table, touched his arm. He shifted away, the responding look in her eyes sending pain lancing through his chest. She was begging him, an eventuality he hadn't prepared for, hadn't expected. He really had no choice.

He stood, looked down as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "I'll think about it."

She stood as well and picked up her jacket. "Look, Jane. How about lunch? Tomorrow? We can go to Mike's, that place down the street from the office that you like. Say, one o' clock?" He shrugged, tilting his head to the side in acknowledgement.

"Sure."

Before she left, she put a gentle hand to his cheek. It took all his strength not to lean into it and cry.


	4. Chapter 4

_Year two. The scar still ached, most nights. He'd been out of the hospital almost seven months, but even he could tell that the path he walked led to a hospital of a different kind. He spent days at a time refusing to sleep. Almost every interaction with the other inmates led to an altercation of some sort, most of which ended with a man of large stature introducing Jane's face to a tattooed fist. Some of the smarter prisoners saw what he was doing and refused to rise to the bait, refused to satisfy his self-destructive streak. One man in particular did his best to foil Jane's attempts to incite violence. A large black man by the name of Leonard Shore, he was a lawyer in for embezzlement and massive fraud. He appointed himself Jane's personal bodyguard, taking it upon himself to cool down the men Jane did his best to rile up. He was unflappable, remaining calm in the face of anything Jane threw at him. Thwarted in his attempts to bring violence upon himself from outside sources, Jane took to fashioning shivs from any available material and drawing his own blood late at night. It wasn't long before some faceless order came down through the works replacing his previous cellmate with Leo's quiet intolerance for any of Jane's nonsense. The man was ruthless in his deprivation of any potential danger. Toothbrushes, eating utensils, pencils all disappeared. Jane was no longer permitted to shave or receive haircuts. When Jane reached his sixth day refusing to eat, Leo pulled in a favor from outside and got him transferred to the mental hospital associated with the prison. Jane spent three months there, his wild desire to destroy himself slowly tamed by the sheer disinterest of the doctors working with him. Deprived of an audience, of the metaphorical oohs and ahhs of an awestruck crowd, and introduced to a strict medical and nutritional regimen, Jane was drawn reluctantly back into health. Upon his return to the prison compound, he fell into a wary friendship with the man he had so despised only a few months before._


	5. Chapter 5

Jane bounced and surveyed the gray room as he waited in line to pass through the metal detector. He hadn't expected to return to these halls so soon. He dumped his shoes, keys, and jacket in the proffered tray as he marveled at the difference made by which side of the bars you were on. The guards were polite, even kind, as they scanned him through. Mickey, who had taken special joy in being rude to his charges, smiled and said hello as Jane took a seat in the visitor's room.

He'd rarely had occasion to go here when he'd been inside; a few terse meetings with his state-appointed lawyer had been the extent of his visiting time. The benches were cold, and he shivered as he waited for the blare and clank of the opening door. When it came, Patrick Jane looked up with the first smile his face had worn in days.

"Leo." He fought to keep his voice level, but his grin had already betrayed his happiness. Leo was no less pleased.

"Patrick." Jane set his hands on the table between them, and Leo put his hand on top of Jane's. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon."

"Well, neither did I, to be honest." Jane smiled and shrugged. There was a long, comfortable silence between them. Jane finally spoke up again. "Teresa- Lisbon-" he searched for the words. "We're having lunch. Today."

Leo smiled. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

"You have misgivings."

Jane shrugged again. "I guess you could say that."

Leo rubbed his thumb across the back of Jane's hand. "Talk to me."

"Five years is a long time." He rolled an imaginary piece of lint between his fingers. "They're different, I'm different." He pressed his hands together in an effort to stop them shaking. "Rigsby's kid is eight now. Looks just like his dad."

Leo smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah, you showed me."

Jane looked down and pulled in toward himself, drawing his hands back to the edge of the table and tucking his crossed ankles under the bench. Leo drew his own hand back into his lap. Silence again.

"Well, I should get going." Jane jerked his head toward the door. "I've got a lunch date to make."

He stood and extended his hand. Leo stood as well and they shook hands firmly, giving each other one last smile. Leo watched as Jane left with his hands in his pockets.

He sighed as the door slammed shut between them._  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**To the curious anon: yes, you're reading it correctly. I fully intended to present Jane and Leo as having been more than friends. I don't want to take up a lot of space explaining all the reasoning behind creating and then mentioning such a relationship, so suffice to say I thought it a necessary part of Jane's healing process.**

* * *

_Year three. Jane was still Jane, even after everything that had happened in the last few years. The big dogs had long since banned him from anything he could bet on, and he'd made more than a few casual enemies trying to prove himself the smartest man in the room. Still, he'd lost the self-destructive edge he'd become known for in his earlier years. Instead, his mind games became ever more complex as he struggled to find an adversary who matched his prowess. Leo had given up playing chess with him; his strategies were either so complex that the game dragged on for days or so heartlessly efficient that Leo often lost in only a few turns. Jane had committed entire volumes of classical literature to memory, as well as several maintenance how-to books on refurbishing old cars. He spent almost all of his free time in the library, devouring crossword puzzles and books upon books of Sudoku, logic puzzles, and the like. Soon his mania spilled over into his day to day life. He began to provoke inmates again, simply out of boredom. He followed police investigations closely, calling in anonymous tips on cases whenever he could get near a telephone. Finally, Leo sat him down in the prison yard one day and clocked him over the head with entries Sa through Su of the Encyclopedia Britannica, knocking him cold and sending him to the medical ward for two days. No charges were pressed, and for once Patrick Jane took a hint. His restlessness became more subdued, though it was clear he still longed for some sort of gainful occupation. Then came the big bust, CBI's crowning achievement – the successful arrest and conviction of Miguel Martinez, big-time gang leader and mastermind behind three of the most violent gang wars in California history. Special Agent Teresa Lisbon and her Serious Crimes Unit, who were credited with the arrest, found themselves headlining every paper and news segment put out in the six months following the bust. They became national heroes, appearing on multiple talk shows and starring in their own series of biographical exclusives. Patrick Jane was not mentioned once._


	7. Chapter 7

**Seriously, the next person who complains about the chapter length will be responsible for my taking the entire story off of this website. I told you all from the start that the story's already written, so bitching on anon does nothing but make me angry. Thank you to those of you who've dealt with it graciously.**

* * *

Mike's was entirely empty when Jane arrived. Even Mike had disappeared from behind the counter. He checked his phone. Twelve fifty. Jane shrugged and sat at the table in the corner, his back to the wall so that he could see the whole room.

The silence was eerie. Though Mike's little deli didn't have as much traffic as a chain restaurant, there was always at least one customer munching on a pickle and a sub in a corner booth. Jane bounced his leg impatiently as one o' clock crept closer, his gaze flitting ever more quickly around the room. The silence was becoming suspicious.

His suspicions were confirmed at precisely one, when suddenly from the back room poured a torrent of people. Mike himself was at the head and a crowd of regulars who knew Jane's face followed. At the very back was his team, all four of them doing an absolutely pathetic job of hiding their smiles. Though Jane had made up his mind to continue to be angry with them, he couldn't help but spring to his feet, his arms stretched wide and his grin stretched wider.

They piled into him, Lisbon slipping into his embrace surprisingly easily and the rest wrapping their arms around the pair of them. Jane buried his face in Lisbon's neck, satisfied at least in that moment to enjoy the contact. They didn't break apart until Mike cleared his throat loudly and Jane turned to find the biggest cake he'd ever seen in his life.

It was a real party, something Jane hadn't had in a long time. The deli was full of people chatting and enjoying themselves, and Jane was content to watch them, learning their life stories quietly and catching snippets of their conversations. His team stood around him at a slight distance, carefully misdirecting anyone who showed a desire to come speak to him. Lisbon sat across the booth, frowning at Rigsby eating his third piece of cake.

They both knew they needed to talk, but they knew too that now was not the time. This left them in silence, the background chatter filling the space between them. Jane sipped at a cup of tea while Lisbon watched, her brows contracting and relaxing periodically as whatever was going through her head was reflected in her face. This invisible progression of thoughts was what held Jane's attention even more intently than the puzzles in the strangers around him. Under pretense of inspecting the wall over her shoulder, he watched her face closely in a search for something he couldn't name.

It was nearing seven when Mike declared the party officially over, chasing the stragglers and the team out with a viciously wielded broom. The five of them drifted down the road toward the offices, none of them talking and none of them feeling the need to. As they reached the parking lots they slowed and lingered near the entrance.

"I've got work to do," Cho said, turning to look at Jane. "It was good seeing you, man. Come back sometime." He shook Jane's hand and then pulled him into a hug, letting go just quickly enough that Jane didn't have time to protest.

"I've got to get back to the office as well." Van Pelt smiled at him, a bit uncertain. When he smiled back she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek, then sprang back cheerfully. Together she and Cho headed up to the building as Rigsby turned to Jane and Lisbon.

"I'd love to stick around, but I'm supposed to pick up Ben in about half an hour and I need to get going. It was great seeing you, Jane." He clapped Jane on the shoulder but Jane broke into a grin and suddenly wrapped his arms around Rigsby, pulling him down into a hug that he deliberately held too tight and too long. When Jane finally let him go, Rigsby straightened quickly and walked away in a hurry, waving a flustered hand as he left. Jane smirked happily.

"Ah, Wayne Rigsby. The perfect mark." He bounced on the balls of his feet happily.

"Excuse me, what did you take from him?" Lisbon asked, indignant.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see if he was still easy. And he is, in case you were wondering."

Lisbon huffed a sigh but didn't press the matter, instead turning and walking away down the sidewalk. Jane quick-marched to catch up with her, sliding easily into step at her side. She looked resolutely ahead and he played along, looking up and away grandly as if the tops of the buildings were endlessly fascinating.

Eventually he broke the silence, leaning toward Lisbon conspiratorially and saying in a half-whisper, "So where are we going?"

"What do you mean, 'where are we going'?" Lisbon asked, turning her head to glare at him.

"Well, you're clearly going somewhere, and I'm currently going with you. So it follows that we as a group are going to that place." He shrugged and smiled as if he had done some impressive trick. Lisbon groaned quietly.

"I'm going to my car. My parking pass expired and I haven't had time to renew it, so I have to park down the street."

"What, don't they give the Director special privileges or something?"

"_Acting_ Director. And no. Even if they did, I wouldn't abuse my position like that." She huffed again and walked ahead of him. He ducked his head to hide his grin. Same old Lisbon.


	8. Chapter 8

_Year four. Far from making Jane angry with his invisibility, the Martinez break seemed to spur him into a cheerful obsession with his old team. He followed their every appearance, keeping a scrapbook full of newspaper clippings and interview transcripts. Whenever their investigations made the news he would collect any clues he could find and write down theories in a journal he kept with him at all times. Each time they reached a correct conclusion he would crow proudly over their victory, much to the irritation of the other inmates. Still, he never touched their cases – not that he needed to. His team had learned well from him; they almost never called a case wrong, and the few they did were recovered smartly and discreetly by good PR. When the news was slow Jane did background research, occasionally even going so far as to break into the DOJ website and read their personnel files. Though the obsession was borderline worrying, it was preferable to the previous outlets Jane had employed and it kept him from the grandiose schemes in which he'd been indulging of late. Over the course of the year he acquired an impressive library of material on all four of the team members. He called it "the dossier" and spoke about it in an undertone just to arouse the suspicions of any eavesdroppers. No one was more amused than Jane when the prison guards finally got wind of the rumors and locked down the entire cell block to search his cell, only to find nothing but a collection of handwritten children's stories about an acrobat named Reese. The guards, sans any real evidence or any real crime, were forced not only to drop the matter but to apologize formally to Jane. He was perfectly gracious about the whole thing and everyone left the exchange appeased. But the affair had sparked within him an idea which, once ignited, burst into a roaring bonfire of a plan. Jane began preparations immediately._


	9. Chapter 9

Jane balanced on the curb, watching Lisbon unlock her car with his hands in his pockets and his head cocked to the side. She slid behind the wheel and sat for a moment, then finally raised her eyebrows and mouthed, "Are you coming?" as she gestured at the passenger seat. Jane's face broke into a grin. Of course he was.

The silence was almost uncomfortable as Lisbon started the car and pulled around the parking lot. Jane drummed his fingers on his thigh, watching Lisbon's reflection in his window. He saw her start to speak and turned to her even before the words came out of her mouth.

"So, I can take you back to your place, I guess, or…" _or I can take you back to mine._ She left it unspoken, but it hung between them like a sprig of mistletoe, uncomfortable and uncertain and exciting all at once.

"I mean, I wouldn't want you to go out of your way -"

"Oh, no, it's really no big deal -"

"- you know, if you've got a couch I can always sleep there and head back to the motel in the morning -"

"- of course, I can set you up with some blankets and a pillow -"

"- good, yeah, thanks."

"- yeah."

Their jumbled exchange left them both slightly breathless and for the rest of the ride they sat in silence, stealing glances when they thought the other couldn't see. As they pulled up to Lisbon's apartment complex Jane peered out of the window, his brow drawn.

"Did you move?" he asked.

"No. Why?" They got out of the car and she locked the doors, slipping the keys into her pocket as they headed up to the building.

"I guess I just -" his voice faltered – "I just forgot." Lisbon looked over at him, concerned by the note in his voice.

"I mean, it's not very memorable." She shrugged.

"No, I – I replaced it." His hand was tight on the railing as they climbed the stairs. "In my palace, I mean." He smiled slightly. "Instead there's Sun Myung Moon, founder of the Unification Church and author of _The Divine Principle_. Died in 2012 at age ninety-two."

Lisbon was making her worried face now, and he smiled quickly to reassure her. "Jane, are you sure you're alright?"

"Oh, yes. Just – surprised."

"Hmmm." She turned to look at him as she unlocked her door. "Why would you have replaced it? Running out of room?" She smirked.

"Ahh, no. That doesn't happen." He smiled down at his shoes. "The only way I could lose something in my memory palace would be if I got rid of it deliberately."

"Deliberately?" She waved him into the apartment and then shut the door behind them both. The room was dark, but it seemed to be decorated in neutral colors, grays and greens and browns. It reminded Jane of a forest glade.

"These are nice," he said, pointing to the paintings on the wall across from the door. As Lisbon flipped on the light, he could see that she was frowning.

"Jane, what's going on? It's exactly the same as the last time you were here."

"Yeah, about that." He laughed sheepishly. "Like I said, I've gotten rid of most of it. I do remember those stairs, though." He wandered over to them, peering over the railing like a curious child. But Lisbon wasn't about to fall for the cute act.

"What do you mean you 'got rid of it'? You can't just get rid of my entire apartment!"

"Well, apparently I can." He shrugged, putting his hands out to placate her when he was met with her continued frowning. "Look, it's not like I'm proud of it or anything, but at this point the only thing I can do is start putting it back."

Lisbon stared at him in silence. After a moment she shook her head and brushed past him to straighten up her couch. He watched her until, her back still turned to him, she spoke.

"You should go."

For a long moment he did not speak or move. Just as she was about to repeat her demand he turned on his heel with a quiet, "Good night," and left. The air outside was freezing, the cold seeping up through his shoes. It suddenly occurred to him that they had not been resoled in over five years. The thought made him feel sad and old.

With a huff and a shake of the head Jane stuffed his hands in his pockets and set off at a brisk walk, hoping to leave such thoughts behind him. He felt it was his duty to get at least as far as the bottom of the stairs before Lisbon came out to call him back in.

As it happened, he made it all the way to the parking lot before he heard his name shouted from the balcony behind him.

"Jane!" He turned and looked up at Lisbon, who stood by the railing shivering in bare feet. "Come back inside. And wipe that smirk off your face!" It was less a smirk than a smile of relief, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"'Speak again, bright angel!'" he called up to her, raising one hand to gesture at her and placing the other on his heart. "'For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air.'"

Lisbon ducked her head in an effort to hide her smile, but Jane saw it anyway, a matching grin spreading over his face.

"Come on, Romeo," she said, waving him up the stairs and turning back to her door. "Wherefore art thou out in this cold when there's central heating inside?"_  
_


	10. Chapter 10

_Year five. When Jane decided he was going to do something, he did it and he did it well. This scheme of his was no different. He began laying his net as soon as he could, using the catalogue he kept in his head of everyone in the prison and how they could best be manipulated. He went for loyalty first, with fear as a second line of defense. Soon he had every petty criminal in the system swearing allegiance to him, and despite his best efforts he was beginning to draw attention to himself. It wasn't long before the bigger fish came to him wanting a piece of the action, giving Jane the pick of the litter when it came to who to appoint as his generals. Leo, of course, became his second in command, and beneath him Jane organized an extensive network including every con in the system. There was not a man behind bars Jane could not control. Prison violence suddenly dropped to naught, other than the occasional beat-down serving as a solution in extreme circumstances. Drug trafficking disappeared entirely – or seemed to – and Jane's fellow inmates suddenly became model citizens. The guards, as usual, knew much less than their charges – only that their jobs were suddenly much easier and that the man named Patrick Jane was to thank. He gracefully denied any special privileges granted to him, choosing instead to bestow them upon his loyal subjects. Every Wednesday the lunch and dinner fare was significantly better, and Saturdays meant extended time out in the prison yard. The treats given to them only increased the fervor with which Jane's men swore fealty to him. Slowly, silently, he extended his reach to the staff, sucking in everyone from the warden to the night janitor. These he did carefully, so that each thought he was the only one in the confidence of the mastermind. But once he had secured his position at the top, the game grew stale. Only Leo, Britannica in hand, stopped him from dropping the scheme cold and throwing the prison into almost certainly fatal disarray. Jane was not a man accustomed to restraint, and only the suggestion of another project – get himself paroled – was enough to satiate his need to plow ahead at full steam. With the help of his many contacts within the system he quickly assembled an almost unnecessarily ironclad case for his release. Meanwhile, Leo was picking up the skills needed to take over the empire at an appreciable rate, assembling his own memory palace and stocking it with every bit of relevant information Jane could feed him. The last few weeks were agony; Jane remained in the prison only to secure Leo's place as his successor, passing on the last of his control at a relentless rate. He was antsy, anxious to see his release plans to fruition, and already entirely divested of interest in the fate of his old kingdom. In the recent months he had used his considerable influence to rush the process through the courts, and it was only in his final days that his fervor died down. The prospect of the pending farewells put him in a more somber mood and tempered his excited anticipation of freedom. His final night in incarceration he officially christened Leo the new top dog and then stayed up into the early hours of the morning reviewing with him the essentials of absolute rule. He spent the rest of the night in a peaceful sleep that belied the burning anxiety churning in his stomach. Even he wasn't sure what the morning would bring._


	11. Chapter 11

**Here we are, folks, we've reached the end! You've been a great audience and have good night! (Don't forget to tip your bartender!)**

* * *

Jane woke early to the smell of brewing coffee and the whistle of a kettle. Lisbon's couch hadn't exactly been kind to his body overnight, but he found as he stood that he could work the kinks out with a thorough stretch. Though narrowed eyes he caught a glimpse of Lisbon's gaze traveling the length of his body as his untucked shirt bared his stomach.

"Morning," he said, cheerful despite his less than stellar lodgings the previous night. Lisbon nodded and grunted blearily. As Jane made his way into the kitchen area the coffee maker beeped its completion. "I've got it," he said quietly, forestalling Lisbon's rise from the table with a gentle hand on her shoulder. He let his hand slide down her back lazily as he crossed behind her, surprised by how much he enjoyed the casual contact.

He pulled out a mug and poured her coffee with one hand as he rummaged through her cabinet for tea with the other. He was surprised to find his favorite blend hidden behind a jar of peanut butter and two boxes of oatmeal. He pulled it out and sniffed it experimentally. Smelled alright.

"How old is this?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. She glanced up, still looking half-asleep.

"Five years. Maybe six." She punctuated her statement with a large yawn. "Dunno exactly."

"Hmm." Ignoring the sudden pang in his chest, he stared at the box for a moment and then shrugged. He'd be putting it in boiling water anyway.

Looking through another cabinet for a cup garnered a second surprise, this one jolting him right down through his chest to his stomach. His old teacup from the office, complete with saucer, sat at the back of the shelf. He picked it up gingerly, as if it might simply fall apart in his hands. He was surprised to find it clean of any dust, the handle a bit more worn than he remembered, as if it had seen use in his five years' absence.

"Lisbon?" His voice caught in his throat as he turned to her. She turned to meet him, her eyes widening as they took in the expression on his face and the cup in his hands.

"Oh." It was as though she crumbled before his eyes, her shoulders sagging and her chin dropping to her chest. For a terrifying moment it seemed she would fold in on herself and disappear, and then she stood and walked away with a mutter Jane could not understand. He stood frozen, teacup in hand, until the padding of her feet faded up the stairs and the shower kicked on above him.

His motions stiff, he poured Lisbon's coffee back into the pot and then prepared his tea, listening off-handedly to the sound of the water rushing through the pipes. When he raised the cup to his lips the rim was still cold.

He could almost see Lisbon sitting at the table in front of him, hunched over the tiny cup with a sour expression on her face. Those mornings he imagined she drank tea rather than coffee, ate eggs rather than the cardboard cereal she usually favored. She probably went into work extra cranky, determined to make it through the day without her usual brew but caving to the caffeine withdrawal by lunch. Perhaps she sat on his couch with a sandwich and simply turned the case over in her mind. Perhaps this was even when she made her best breakthroughs, the days that she took to remember him. Perhaps she had missed him after all.

He set the cup and saucer down on the counter with a clatter. He found it hard to breathe.

The water shut off with a clunk and Jane started, looking up at the stairs almost guiltily. He felt suddenly as though he was intruding, a housebreaker sneaking around rifling through drawers that oughtn't be opened. With a shaky sigh he returned to his tea and the kitchen table.

Lisbon emerged from the upstairs looking as fresh and composed as ever. He pretended not to notice the red around her eyes.

"What'd you do with that coffee?" she asked, the forced casual note in her voice making him wince. He didn't bother gesturing at the pot, as she had already seen the empty mug and was headed that way.

"Lisbon…" but she cut him off, sweeping past him with a travel mug in her hand.

"I've got to get to work, Jane, I'm already late. Just make sure you lock the door behind you."

"I already called work. You've got the day off." The lie slipped out so easily, almost frightening him with how quickly it passed his lips. Lisbon, halfway to the door, whirled to stare at him with an incredulous expression.

"You _what?_" Her mug looked ready to fall from her hand. At least he could still surprise her.

"I figured you'd need a day off. And I'm here, and you're here, and we can… talk." He gave a little half-shrug. For a moment it seemed her anger had softened, but then the mask slipped back over her face and his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

"No, Jane. I'm an officer of the law. I can't just take the day off; I have responsibilities. I'll be back this evening. We can talk then." The tone of her voice said otherwise, but she was already out the door and he barely had time to protest.

"Teresa-" As he rose his cup tipped, tea spilling onto his shirt and spreading over the counter. He mimed dismay until Lisbon, towel in hand, shoved him aside to wipe it up. He felt a little bad, playing her so blatantly like this, but desperate times called for desperate measures. At least he didn't have any illusions of dishonesty; the tension in her jaw told him she knew exactly what was going on. And yet she played along, he noted.

"I probably have a shirt you can wear," she said, her voice flat as she jabbed the wadded-up towel at his stomach. She was away and up the stairs before he had time to apologize, thank her, anything. He watched the stairs with a carefully even expression until she reappeared.

"Here." She shoved it at him like she had shoved the towel, a quick, angry motion that made him flinch and furrow his brow. Her expression softened as she saw. "Just take it."

He traded her the towel for the shirt, standing for an uncomfortable moment with it in his hands but uncertain what to do. When she did not move he began to undo the buttons, keeping his gaze away from her as best he could. After a long moment in which the silence was broken only by the sound of their breathing, Lisbon turned away with a mutter about washing machines.

"Uh-" Jane quickly stripped the shirt from his shoulders, holding it out to Lisbon with an expectant look on his face.

"Right." She turned back to him and then froze as her gaze was drawn to the scar on his shoulder. A heartbeat passed and then she flushed bright red and grabbed the shirt from him, hurrying out of the room. As he watched her leave he once again felt like the housebreaker, this time rifling through her closet and tearing the sheets from her bed.

He pulled the t-shirt over his head, the shape of it feeling tight around his neck and rough over his shoulders. Even after his years in prison a t-shirt felt strange on his body.

When Lisbon returned she sat down on the couch, gesturing at the spot beside her with a tired look on her face.

"Come on. You're here, I'm here… Let's talk."

He sat down across from her, the silence between them stretching to miles. Neither of them knew what to say.

"You left us," Lisbon finally whispered, twisting her hands in her lap. "You left us for that _stupid_ revenge of yours without even thinking twice about it. All this time and you didn't even care enough-"

"Didn't care? I did it for you!" He surprised even himself with the fervor in his voice. "It wasn't about revenge, Lisbon, I was protecting you!" It was as though a weight was lifted from his chest as he spoke – he hadn't even realized the truth of his words until he'd said them. Of course it had been about revenge – despite what he said, they both knew that – but as he recalled that moment deliberately for the first time, he saw that it had been as much about her as about him.

"What?" She looked as if she might laugh with disbelief. "I don't – didn't – need your protection!"

"Lisbon, if I hadn't killed him he would never have stopped. He would have gotten free and he would have taken the whole team – especially you."

"You don't know that," she said, though she didn't sound so certain.

"Yes. I do."

Silence was becoming an old friend of theirs, settling between them as Jane did his best to stare her into submission. She glared back at him full force – at least until he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at her, desperate to eke a smile from her stony visage. She pressed her lips together to smother a giggle and he grinned.

"Can we agree to disagree?" he asked, sticking out a hand to shake on it. After a heartbeat's hesitation she took it, smiling at him in the soft, sweet way he had missed without knowing. He grinned back, though he was unaware of the sincerity that burned from his eyes. Lisbon ducked her head, her smile spreading wider and her grip on his hand tightening. They sat like this, almost swimming in their happiness, for a long time before Jane broke the silence with a sigh.

"You probably should get to work," he said, looking a bit forlorn.

"Hm?" Lisbon's head rose sharply, her eyes wide and questioning.

"I didn't really call in to get you the day off," he said, shrugging his shoulder slightly. "I just said that to keep you here."

"Jane!" Lisbon rose with a shout, grabbing a pillow from behind her and beating Jane repeatedly over the head until he curled into a ball on the couch, fending her off with outstretched hands and giggling like a madman. She leaped over the coffee table, rushed into the kitchen to collect her keys, and then dashed to the door, wrenching it open before pausing in the doorway.

"You'll be here when I get back?" she asked, suddenly looking uncertain. Jane grinned in response.

"Of course."

Her smile returned full force, and before she left she said quietly, "I missed you."

He smiled at the gray and green décor, at the travel mug and teacup sitting together on the counter top, at the _thump-thump_ of the washing machine in the background.

"I missed you, too."


End file.
